Conductor Of The Pity Parade

I grew up thinking I could be famous or important. A celebrity. A scientist. A great thinker or provider. A father or husband.


Time went on, and I realized I don't have what it takes. So I decided to aim lower:


Maybe I could be a writer? Or a critic. Maybe I could be a boyfriend on the side. Or maybe that would take priority, and the writing and stuff would be the hobby. At times I wanted to be a comic author, or an artist, or both. I spent years doing those things, and it turns out I wasn't cut out for those either.


I'm 30 now, and I'm not anything really. I barely qualify as an adult. I'm not employed, I'm not in school, I have no friends, no ambitions and no dreams. I'll always be a virgin. I'll never get to have a relationship or start a family. I don't think I have the stamina to hold down a blue-collar job either.

I'll never be somebody.


I thought I was funny. I thought I was smart and helpful and good, and the last 30 years have demonstrated how completely false all of that is.


I don't get to be any of the things I wanted to be. I don't get to be useful. I'm just another nameless cog in a machine that will keep running long after I'm dead.


I have nothing of value to offer the world, and that's why I'm alone. I'm not even interesting enough to have addictions. I'm just another boring, mediocre white guy.